


Say It

by matanee



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bathing/Washing, Cute Ending, Declarations Of Love, Eventual Smut, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Laurent just won't say it, Love Confessions, M/M, Pining, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slaves, blowjob, handjob, stubborn prat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-29
Updated: 2015-09-29
Packaged: 2018-04-24 00:00:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4897303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/matanee/pseuds/matanee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seven months after the war, King Laurent rides to Ios to meet King Damianos and seal the peace between the two nations -- and two lovers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Say It

It had been 7 months. It had been 7 months, and finally it was coming to an end.

Damen should've seen it coming, he should've been prepared. He should've kept reminding himself that his capture wouldn't last forever, that Laurent wouldn't be in need of his assistance forever. One way or another, it would end. When it happened, however, Damen was caught off-guard. Even if he wanted, he couldn't have been prepared for it.

He was kicked out of Vere. Or rather, dragged away.

He'd known being involved in multiple wars at the same time was the worst possible way to begin his reign as King of Akielos, but he was stubborn enough to look away when he knew the circumstances were about to prove him right. He never had the occasion to speak directly to Laurent about it. So Laurent had told Damen's own people to drag him away. First, with reason. Then, with force.

It wasn't the easiest thing Nikandros had ever had to do.

On the way back to Ios, Damen considered fleeing his own people, his own army, just to get back to Vere and help Laurent. To talk to him. To hear his voice and learn what he was thinking. To make sure it wasn't the last time they'd seen each other.

For a terrible row of weeks, there was no word. There were gossips, but Damen had a country to rebuild and a war to wrap up as quickly as possible. There wasn't much time for gossips. Luck served him when both Kastor and he realized that Damen had the more loyal soldiers out of the two of them, and Damen even managed to outnumber his brother. He needed more than Akielos for that, though - and Damen let everyone believe that he asked for Vere's help when, in fact, the backup came unexpectedly. The unfamiliar captain brought a letter from the rightful King of Vere, and that was the first time Damen heard from Laurent after more than a month of agonizing silence.

The letter read, _'With this, consider us square. Stay alive and we might discuss a treaty of peace.'_

Damen could've shoved the letter down the Veretian captain's throat, but he decided to be content with the mere fact that Laurent was alive at least. Kastor had completely lost his wits and his tactics fell apart right in front of him on the battlefield. Damen ended up being the one to drive Kastor through with his sword - it didn't mean he liked doing it.

Aside from the physicians, no one dared approach him on that evening. His tent was in ruins the next morning.

After that, the silence continued. It was occasionally disturbed by brief, official sounding letters - most of them probably weren't even written by Laurent. Vere was licking her wounds, and so was Akielos. Diplomatic discussion was very careful and uncertain between the two parties, and Damen slowly had to realize that this time it wasn't about them. It wasn't about Laurent and Damianos. It was about two countries, their peoples despising each other for way too long to just sweep that under the rug and get away with a peace treaty. Everyone was tired of war, but it was a process that took time.

Time that Damen didn't calculate into his plans. Apparently, Laurent had. And that irked Damen more than he thought it was possible.

There was no letter addressed to him when word came that the King of Vere was riding to Ios with his men. Only a rider arrived a few days earlier, personally bringing the news, and Damen couldn't seem to calm his heart afterwards. No matter where he went, no matter how many times he told himself that he was king and he should've known how to control himself, it was useless. All he saw was a phantom picture of someone he once held in his arms, his face not quite clear on Damen's mind anymore, and that filled him with despair.

There was general tension in the air on the morning of Laurent's arrival. Some people, despite that Damen made it very clear it was about a peace treaty, were worried it would be the start of a new war, only with different pieces on the chessboard. It would've been just like his father to worry about something like that, but it never occured to Damen that Laurent would have ill intentions.

Even now that Laurent knew who he really was. Even now, Damen trusted Laurent, and would've put his life in his hands. He might not have trusted him as Prince Laurent, but Damen knew he would be a good king. Laurent would put his people first and wouldn't thrust them into another pointless bloodshed.

He would find another way to punish Damen. And Damen feared that more than his physical safety.

Damen was observing the several dozen men flowing into his courtyard the morning their arrival was expected. For a long time, he couldn't see Laurent. He couldn't catch sight of the fair head in the abundance of men, the sound of horses and general pandemonium filling the otherwise quiet morning.

That is until he did catch sight of him. And Laurent was closer than he thought, already dismounting his horse and walking up the stairs towards him with guards unknown to Damen.

How could he forget Laurent's face for even a second, it was a mystery for Damen. He radiated the same flawless beauty as always, the only difference hiding in his eyes. They were colder than when Damen had last seen them, right when they parted at Ravenel. _Trust me_ , were Laurent's last words directly addressed to him. And that's what Damen was doing now, that's what he intended to keep doing, even though Laurent's walls were restored and he was hiding behind them, not even a single emotion visible on his face. The only thing Damen could see was the exhaustion after the long ride, but even the way Laurent took his sight in held no information for Damen. He trusted him nonetheless, like he'd done for a very long time now.

When Laurent stopped a decent distance away from him, Damen couldn't help but swallow to try and fight the lump in his throat. He felt like a green boy, the moment right before his father would learn about something Damen had done while he was away hunting. The memory left Damen's mind as quickly as it entered. He was painfully aware of all the people watching them, of Laurent watching him, and he cleared his throat before he decided his voice wouldn't break once he started speaking.

"Your Highness, the King of Vere, I welcome you to Ios," Damen bowed his head only slightly, reaching out his arm before he could've stopped himself. His hand was bare, he was wearing no glove, unlike Laurent. He didn't make a move to accept the hand offered for him, and long seconds passed while Laurent was switching his gaze between Damen's eyes and his outstretched arm. Damen knew he should wait, that he shouldn't pull away. The tension was too great now, and he was aching too badly to touch Laurent anyway. Just one touch, to feel him underneath his fingers, to feel his warm skin against his. That's all he needed.

Laurent took his time, but eventually removed his riding gloves very tentatively, one finger at a time. He was looking straight into Damen's eyes as he took his hand and squeezed it lightly, this one movement enough for Damen to have the air sucked out of his lungs.

Laurent was soft and warm in his hand, just like Damen remembered.

"And I thank _you_ for your warm welcome, King Damianos," Laurent said, his voice low and steady. The handshake lingered, but not even a second longer than it was necessary. Damen let go with a heavy heart.

The seven months might have been over, but who knows what else had just begun.

  
*

  
Up until the feast that evening, Damen wasn't scheduled to meet Laurent. They could've accidentally met around the palace, in the gardens, on the corridors, and Damen would've lied to himself had he said he wasn't trying to seek it out. Laurent, however, seemed to be hiding in his chambers, and that only made Damen's pining worse. The political talk wouldn't start until the next day, and Damen knew he wouldn't be able to sit at the same table with Laurent for hours without talking to him in private first. Showing up at his room, however, would've been fine if they were princes. Now, it would've been way too desperate, even for Damen.

Apparently, Laurent thought differently.

It was an hour before the feast that he heard the knock on his door. Damen was trying to busy himself with papers, intent to continue his forced reading until the sun would completely disappear. He barely looked up when the guard entered his room, he was too focused on not thinking about anything at all.

"Your Highness, the King of Vere wishes to speak with you."

Damen had to bite on his tongue to stop the surprised 'what' slipping from his lips, so he just stared, maybe a little too obviously, before he nodded.

"Let him in, then."

The guard stepped aside to reveal the ever so immaculate figure behind him. Laurent moved soundlessly as always, slipping into the room without a spare look at either Damen or the guard. When the door was closed behind him and there was only the two of them in the room, Damen allowed himself to exhale and lean back on his chair. The setting sun painted everything in orange and pink, the colours brilliant against the already colourful carved walls. Damen wouldn't have been able to describe what it'd done to Laurent's hair and fair skin.

He couldn't take his eyes off the sight.

"What do I owe the pleasure of having you here?" Damen asked. He didn't understand how, but he managed to sound steady, which was not even close to how he felt.

Laurent walked around the room aimlessly, observing everything. Of course, that didn't involve Damen himself. He wore a long robe, like one usually does between having a bath and changing into formal clothing. It almost looked like Laurent came here on an impulse. Damen would've never thought he would ever see Laurent dressed like this, but it covered him fully, and that left Damen with slight longing to see more.

"Is it?"

Damen could barely catch the words, Laurent spoke so quietly.

"Is it what?"

"Is it a pleasure?"

Damen paused, following Laurent with his eyes. The blond was standing by Damen's bed now, the tips of his fingers gently brushing against the silk covers. His skin was pale against the crimson sheets.

"I thought you never asked obvious questions."

"I don't think it's that obvious."

"It is to me."

There was a ghost of a smile on Laurent's face for a split second before it disappeared, leaving a somber expression in its wake. Damen still couldn't read Laurent's emotions, but a part of him didn't want to. It was the same part that feared him somewhere deep inside, that feared this encounter from the moment they first laid eyes on each other. There were no pretenses anymore. Damen didn't have to lie anymore. He wasn't a slave, and he never really was. He wondered if he could say the same thing about being Laurent's lover.

He didn't dare ask.

"What happened after I left?"

Laurent seemed to be deep in his thoughts when Damen asked the question.

"I thought you were informed."

"I was. I want to hear it from you."

Laurent turned around slightly, with his side to the balcony. The sun covered him in colours, layers of purple and orange making him glow even more than before. Damen's throat narrowed.

"There was only one battle left. With Kastor out of the equation, I only had to kill my uncle."

"Were you the one?" Damen asked. It might have been painful to take Kastor's life, but it meant something that Damen would never be able to explain. He knew Laurent would've felt the same way had he finished his uncle.

"Not all of us are so lucky in revenge," Laurent said, still avoiding Damen's gaze. Damen felt a slight pang of hurt in his chest, but he tried to dismiss it. He slowly stood from his chair and sighed deeply.

"This might be the last thing you want to hear, but I'm really sorry, Laurent."

Laurent's brows furrowed slightly as he stared out on the view that the balcony offered.

"Why would it be the last thing I wanted to hear?"

Damen stopped a good distance from Laurent, leaning against his table gently.

"You know why."

"Is it because you murdered my brother?" Laurent finally looked at him, and it sent shivers down Damen's spine. "What do you expect me to say to that?"

"That I should go to hell."

"Oh, you would love that, wouldn't you?" Laurent sneered. "You would love to get away with only that. Were you hoping for it for the past months? No, you cannot possibly be that dense. Unless you learnt to lie to yourself very well. Which is probably the case, given how well you've been deceiving everyone around you for so long."

The realization hit Damen that it was the very thing he feared. Not really the things that Laurent would say or do. It was the emotion behind those things. The hatred. The fact that Damen could do nothing to change that. Whatever delicate trust, whatever tenderness had been between them, it was gone. And it felt like the heart was torn out of Damen's chest and somehow, he was still alive after that, empty and broken.

Knowing Laurent, Damen finally understood that the blond was the one keeping him alive, purposedly. Laurent just wouldn't let him die. It wouldn't have to be physical abuse, Laurent was always better at terror on the soul. He would make sure Damen wouldn't be able to close his eyes and go to sleep without Laurent being the last thing he saw. Laurent, turning his back to him. Laurent, with his face disappearing from Damen's memories, more and more with every day.

"I don't want to insult you by making excuses, and I won't crawl on my knees at your feet, begging for your forgiveness," Damen said after a long pause. He was really trying to sound composed, but he couldn't keep the despair out of his voice for more than a few seconds. "I just want you to know that-- That night in Ravenel-- I didn't play you. I wasn't lying. When I kissed you, it wasn't pretense. When I stayed the day after that, it wasn't part of a scheme. When I fought for you, right until the moment you didn't let me anymore, I would've died for you. It was real. You don't have to believe me. You can hate me if you want. I just needed to tell you the truth."

The gold cuff on his wrist suddenly felt like a weight dragging him down, and he pulled his sleeve up on his arm before he could've changed his mind. He saw Laurent's gaze flicking down to his wrist from his face, then right back, and the unreadable expression became open for a second. It was only a crack on the defense, long enough for Damen to see the rage behind it. And it made his heart hammer stronger in his chest than ever before.

"Do you think I hate you?" Laurent asked, his voice honestly incredulous, and Damen swallowed hard. "Do you think I spent these last months fuelling my hatred so when I finally came here I could light it on fire and rub it in your face?"

"What else could you do?" Damen sounded exasperated, his voice completely matching how he felt, for the first time. "I can't ask you to forgive me, but trust me, no one wants your forgiveness more than me."

"Did you ask me even once?" Laurent raised his voice. "Why do you think I went to bed with you, Damen?"

It was one of the very few occasions Damen had ever heard Laurent say his name, and it sent a shiver through him again, making his knees weak for a second.

"You didn't know who I was."

"If I went to bed with everyone who I thought didn't kill my brother, I would have quite the list."

"Then why?"

"Because I wanted you, you fool! Just as much as you state you wanted me. And just like your feelings don't go away from one day to another, I can't just begin to hate you once-- once I--"

Laurent stopped mid-sentence, leaving Damen completely breathless, and they stared at each other for longer than Damen thought he could stand it. He could barely hear his thoughts from the drumming of his heartbeat, and that only worsened the moment Laurent reached underneath his robe and pulled out something, something wrapped in a soft cloth. A painful sting of recognition spread in Damen's stomach and he stared at Laurent with wide eyes, his breathing shallow.

It was the pair of Damen's golden cuff.

"You had the decency to have this brought to me by my captain, but you find it so hard to imagine that I would have decent human feelings," Laurent lowered his voice. He put the wrapped up cuff back underneath his robes, and Damen felt a magnetic attraction to close the distance between them under a second. He held his ground, though, and stared instead, mustering up all his strength to not give in to the temptation. "What else do you want me to say?"

Laurent seemed lost for a second, like he was tired of holding up defenses when all Damen tried to do was destroying them all the time. But Damen couldn't stop the need that made him sick to his stomach on lonely nights, he couldn't stop wanting to get under Laurent's skin. He didn't want to destroy the defenses: he wanted to become them. And the impossibility of it nearly crushed him, like one crushes a grape with their finger.

"Say you want this," Damen murmured, his entire body tense and slightly shaking with the strength he had to use to hold himself back. "Say you still want me. Say we are not over, and--"

"And?" Laurent asked, his voice quiet. His smile reflected the same exhaustion as his face a moment earlier, and Damen's lips slightly parted. "What then?"

"We will figure it out when we get there," Damen said. He didn't even try to hide the desperation from his voice anymore.

Laurent fisted his fingers by his sides, his pale skin even whiter from the force. He let out a long sigh and closed his eyes for a second before looking at Damen again.

"We are kings."

"I don't care."

Laurent released a huff of breath, almost sounding like a laugh. Damen didn't even move an inch.

"How can you not care?"

"Because I love you."

For the first time in their small history together, Laurent seemed truly, completely shocked and desperate, mirroring the expression on Damen's face perfectly. The words hung heavily in the air around them, and Damen had to swallow so he could force more words out of his throat without choking on them. Even swallowing hurt.

"I love you, Laurent, and I can't stop," he inhaled deeply, carefully taking one step closer. He half-expected Laurent to back away, but the bed was blocking his way, and he didn't seem to be able to move anyway. Damen noticed how Laurent's hands were trembling. "Say you want this, say you want me, and I will think of a way. _We_ will. I just need to hear you say it."

"Are you out of your mind?" Laurent's voice was shaking, his hands clenched again, and he was the one stepping closer now, closing the distance with dangerously swift moves. "Have you completely lost--"

He stopped so suddenly that Damen almost got dizzy from it, and he realized only several seconds later that they were interrupted by the knock on the door. His head felt heavy from adrenaline and he took a deep breath again, running his fingers through his hair before turning to the door.

"Enter."

The servant opened the door and stepped in, bowing deeply when he laid his eyes on his king. Laurent was still heaving with anger, and Damen's skin was crawling from frustration. The moment was gone, the conversation was over, he knew it. It would be only a matter of seconds until Laurent would storm out of the room and they would never speak in private again.

Damen was horrified when he realized what the stinging feeling behind his eyes really was.

"Your Highness." Then, the servant slowly turned to Laurent and bowed again. "Your Highness. The feast is prepared."

"We can begin shortly," Damen muttered, trying his best to sound collected. He could feel Laurent's gaze, burning on his skin. "Could you please escort the King of Vere back to his chambers?"

The burning gaze became even more intense, but Damen turned his head away and sat back at his table. He acted like the papers were of huge importance when, in reality, his eyes were too blurred to even distinguish the letters from each other.

"Yes, Your Highness."

Damen looked up only to see Laurent's back, storming out of his room. Then, the servant bowed again and closed the door. Once the lock clicked and the sound of footsteps disappeared, Damen swept everything from his table with one move of his arm.

The gold cuff on his wrist was shining brightly in the last lights of the sun.

  
*

  
Damen emerged from the hot bath, water dripping from his hair and flying everywhere around him as he shook his head.

The steam didn't quite relax him or silence his mind, but it chased the uneasiness from his chest once his thoughts returned to reality. Under the weight of water, he couldn't have cared less about the problems he'd been facing for the past weeks and, especially, that day. It all came down crashing around him, and only at the baths did he feel somewhat comfortable, if not wholly safe.

His slave, a dark, curly haired boy in his early twenties awaited him at the edge of the bath. Damen took his time walking up the stairs until only his ankles were licked by the gentle waves of hot water, then, he let himself be wrapped up in a soft towel. The slave dried him and Damen watched his long lashes casting shadows against his cheeks. He was freckled, the planes of soft brown spots expanding as far as the bridge of his nose. He was smaller than Damen in every aspect, avoiding the King's eyes carefully while toweling him.

Damen found himself smiling at the sight. He was a beautiful boy, ready to serve Damen until the King wished.

"I can dress myself, Lysander," Damen said softly. He met the slave's eyes only briefly before Lysander looked away again, continuing to dry Damen's back this time. He made sure his hand would never touch Damen's skin, only the towel. "It is way past midnight. I don't wish to keep you up any longer."

"It is no nuisance to look after you, Your Highness," Lysander answered, his words careful but not quite hiding the exhaustion that Damen formerly caught on his face. "You have a long day behind you."

He pulled the towel away and walked over to where Damen's sleeping clothes had been spread. A simple sheer shirt and a light underwear that barely brushed his knees - Lysander brought them over and, without letting his gaze linger on Damen's body for longer than necessary, he started dressing him.

Damen was no stranger to such ministrations, yet, he felt self-conscious all of a sudden. Lysander's full lips, surely created to kiss kings, were pressed into a firm line as he concentrated on Damen. He couldn't avoid touching Damen now, but he tried to make it feel pleasant by slowing his movements, brushing his fingers against Damen's skin until the touch caused goosebumps and lured a sigh from Damen.

"Would you like me to accompany you to your room, Your Highness?"

Lysander was looking right at Damen now, and the taller felt a smile tugging at his lips again, tired this time. The slave stood a little farther, and that distance was enough for Damen to come back to himself and try to think straight.

He slowly shook his head and said, "What I would like you to do is retire and sleep."

Lysander was hesitating for a second, Damen could sense. It was no news for him that Damen hadn't taken a slave to bed ever since he'd been back from captivity, but it didn't change the fact that these slaves were trained otherwise. They were trained to please their King, and it was strange, to say the least, that the King himself was sabotaging them in doing what they were taught. Damen never tried to deny that he felt guilty for it, but he had a good reason for not taking anyone. A reason no one knew of. A reason Damen kept as a secret, locked deep inside himself.

A secret that Damen ignored for the entire evening, which meant this secret was most likely very agitated somewhere in his room in the palace. Or even worse: angry.

Damen knew that Lysander would've liked to argue, to try to change Damen's mind, but it was against everything he was ever taught. He was taught obedience from the very beginning, but Damen figured the stubbornness that he constantly had to fight down inside himself was etched in his nature. Education blunted its sharp edges, but it was there nonetheless, and anyone else more naive than Damen would've called it caring. Damen called it what it really was: tenacity.

"Let me walk you to your door, at least," Lysander tried, obviously with no hope he would succeed in his attempt. Upon seeing Damen's resigned smile, hope rekindled in his hazel eyes.

"I won't mind that," Damen said kindly.

With the slave in his heels, he left the baths behind and headed for his chambers.

"May I ask a question, Your Highness?"

Lysander's voice was small in the silence of the corridor. From somewhere on the other side of the palace, Damen could hear the murmurs of a conversation, but he paid no heed and glanced at his slave instead.

"What is it?"

There was a pause, then, even more quietly, "Do the scars still hurt?"

Damen felt dumbfounded for the shortest of second, then, the meaning behind the question dawned on him. Lysander toweled him - he'd seen Damen's back. Damen found himself admiring Lysander before even thinking of an answer. Most of the slaves were horrified the moment they saw his back, but Lysander kept quiet about it so far, even though he must've seen it countless times by now.

Damen couldn't help the smile that appeared on his face again. He tried to make it go away by thinking of the flogging, by remembering the pain and all the other misery that it ensued, but he found it hard to hold that grudge against Laurent when, at the mere thought of him, Damen's heart was threatening to give out.

"They tingle sometimes, but they don't hurt anymore," Damen answered after contemplating his response for a few seconds. "When they do, it's just a phantom pain."

Lysander fell silent and they walked without a word until they reached the doors of Damen's chambers. There weren't any guards immediately at the entrance, only a little farther away on both ends of the long corridor. They were well out of range.

"Thank you for your assistan--"

"I would have endured it in your stead," Lysander cut him off, yet another reminder for Damen that he had an exceptionally strong personality that was hard to overcome with mere slave teachings. Damen's mouth closed shut and Lysander blushed a little, suddenly avoiding Damen's eyes intently. "I would have taken it all if it meant you would have been spared."

Damen was short of words and full of things to say at the same time. He watched Lysander carefully, the shallow rise and fall of his chest, the hectic way his eyes tried to avoid Damen's.

Damen knew. He knew that any slave in this palace and all over Akielos would've been glad to suffer for him, to die for him. Even during Kastor's betrayal, slaves loyal to Damen died, punished for their loyalty. Instinctively, Damen wanted to discourage Lysander from feeling like this, but he reminded himself that there was nothing to be afraid of. No one would hurt his slaves, not without killing him first.

He raised a hand to Lysander's face before he could've really thought it over, but the way it made Lysander tremble underneath his touch was already worth being bolder than usual. Damen's fingers barely even brushed against Lysander's skin and the slave's eyes fell closed, visibly trying to fight the urge to lean into the touch.

Ironically, even this reminded Damen of Laurent, and he had to swallow so he could speak.

"I know," Damen murmured, sucking in a shallow breath. "I know too well."

Lysander grabbed Damen's hand suddenly and drew it towards his lips, kissing the knuckles separately, and Damen let him. He was holding onto Damen with both hands, and he only pulled away when his touch collided against the golden cuff on Damen's wrist. The King's heart fluttered automatically, watching as Lysander's gaze flickered between the cuff and Damen's face.

Then, Lysander pressed one last kiss on the top of Damen's hand before releasing him reluctantly and taking a step back.

"Sleep well, Your Highness."

Lysander gave him a small smile, almost too timid to be caught, then, he turned around and left swiftly, his shoulders slightly hunched forward. Damen watched, mesmerized, while his fingers absentmindedly reached for the golden cuff on his wrist. It felt almost weightless now, like it was a part of him. That's why he forgot about it so easily.

He wondered whether that was a blessing or a curse.

  
*

  
It was near dawn when he heard the door to his room open slightly.

Ever since the night he's been attacked in his own rooms, ever since his own kin planted a dagger in his back, he kept a sword immediately by his bed. He couldn't sleep deep enough to not hear anyone intruding on his privacy, and he woke way before the door could've been closed behind his visitor.

Damen lay with his back to the door, his eyes open and searching the wall across him for shadows. The candles burned low and the intruder moved soundlessly, like a real assassin would. Damen immediately tasted the bitterness of irony, having thought only a few hours earlier that they were safe.

His arm gently snaked towards the hilt of his sword, without making a sound or a movement too visible. His fingers stretched and he tried to labour his breathing, to look like one still deep in sleep.

He was ready to unsheath the sword the moment the mattress shifted behind him, but the intruder suddenly spoke:

"Put that down."

And then, Damen exhaled, louder and more relieved than he would've liked.

"What if I killed you?" he asked, his voice high and incredulous as he pushed himself up and turned around. Laurent was kneeling in front of him, his blue eyes striking even in the darkness. He wore a long white shirt that pooled around his knees on the mattress, leaving tiny bits of his torso bare between the loosened laces.

Damen stared at him in disbelief, not as much dizzy with sleep as with surprise. Laurent's face remained completely unreadable.

"You would have one problem less, I assume," he spoke, his voice quiet in the night. Damen wanted to have him closer, now that his fear of betrayal was renewed momentarily, but he dared not touch the blond. Damen could've reached for his hand, but he knew it would've been a mistake.

Most things seemed like a mistake when it came to Laurent. Including the things Damen wanted to do the most.

"Why are you here?" Damen decided not to comment on the nonsense Laurent was saying. Instead, he spoke kindly, careful not to sound annoyed by any chance. Which he was not, but Laurent had a tendency to find flaw where there was none. One of his charms, Damen learned over the months.

"My original intention was to call you to account for your behaviour at the feast and for the things you told me beforehand," Laurent said. "But then I realized my chosen method of doing so was insensitive to say the least. I've frightened you."

Up to this point, Damen thought he was heaving slightly because of Laurent's mere presence. However, the blond's words made him aware of the tension in his chest, the way his heart was beating differently than while with Laurent. He really was frightened, and he couldn't look Laurent in the eye while processing this new information.

It's been over a year, and he still couldn't sleep soundly in his own chambers. That alone should've been a sign that something was not fine. He was not fine. And maybe that was what the slaves saw in him as well. What Lysander saw.

"It is not-- it is not something you bring forth in me," Damen said quietly. Suddenly, he felt a surge of vulnerability at the openness of his words. It was not something he would've usually talked about. "It's been part of my life for a while now."

Laurent was silent for a few moments, and Damen could feel his gaze on him, intently searching him for answers. When the blond realized Damen would not add anything else, he sighed shortly and bowed his head.

"Up to this day, assassination attempts are taking place almost daily in Arles," Laurent said, his voice deep, and loud enough for only Damen to hear. "They are not all aimed at me. Anyone loyal to me could tell a tale. Not all of my uncle's men could be seeked out. The sympathizers of the regency are still out there, scheming against me and my court."

Damen studied Laurent's expression carefully, but he could not learn anything he hadn't known already. Laurent was avoiding his eyes, and Damen noticed after several seconds that the blond was looking at the golden cuff on Damen's wrist. That made his heart beat harder for a different reason than fear.

"The people think I'm too young. That I lack the savvy that Auguste had, that I am not strong enough to rule a kingdom," Laurent continued, a shade of anger plain in his voice. "I killed more people in the past months than I can count. Public executions, floggings, pillory. Yet, it seems like I cut one head off and two more will take its place."

There was a humourless chuckle afterwards, and a pair of blue eyes rose to Damen's. The brunet sat in silence, the cavalcade of thoughts causing mayhem in his mind.

"You will prove them wrong," Damen said quietly, forgetting his own fears and concerns for the time being. Laurent had always had that effect on him: making Damen forget everything that didn't have to do with him. "You always prove people wrong in what they think about you."

"You sound like someone talking from experience," Laurent said, something almost kind tugging at the corner of his mouth. It made Damen want to touch him even more.

"You keep proving _me_ wrong," Damen added on the same tone. He was aware of the way he must've been looking at Laurent, with obvious awe and adoration, but he could not resist it, and he did not try. He meant what he said that afternoon, even though his behaviour at the feast was not the best way to testify it. He had little choice, though. And he hoped Laurent would know that too. "You-- You will be a good king, Laurent. If you don't get killed by an assassin before your time, you will bring prosperity to Vere."

There was another chuckle, with more humour this time, and it made Damen smile. Laurent looked almost self-conscious, his head bowing forward and his eyes fixed on the sheets between them, hidden underneath thick blond lashes. It was beyond Damen's power to resist the temptation to touch this time, so he reached forward slowly and carefully, like Laurent was something fragile. He was.

He didn't pull away, but he didn't reciprocate the touch at first either. Damen gently ran the tip of his fingers over Laurent's hand, tracking the veins in the darkness. He didn't have to see to feel them, and he held his breath, the warmth against his hand covering him in goosebumps. It was different than with Lysander in the baths. That was the pleasure of being cared about, the gentleness of someone who didn't want to hurt him. It was an entirely different sensation, and Damen watched Laurent's face carefully, looking for any telltale sign of what the blond might have been feeling.

He hid it. He hid it, just like he always did.

And then, he slowly turned his hand so Damen could track his palm.

"Laurent," Damen breathed, his voice hoarse and barely even audible. Laurent shook his head, his lips parted as he stared at the only spot where their bodies were colliding.

"Don't speak," he murmured at the same volume, and Damen closed his mouth, swallowing hard around the lump in his throat.

It was nothing like earlier in the courtyard. Their hands were touching then, but it was public and formal, nothing of their former privacy was present at that time. Now, however, Damen felt like no time had passed at all. For him, it was just like all those months ago in Ravenel, in that bed, in each other's arms. The loneliness that threatened to crush him so far flew out of the window in a second and he could've cried with relief, the relief that Laurent was in an arm's reach, allowing this to happen.

When Laurent gently reached forward to touch the golden cuff, Damen closed his eyes for a moment. He could feel nothing of Laurent tracing the patterns etched into the cuff - instead, he listened to the other's shallow breaths, the very proof of how close he really was.

He wished it would never end. He wished he had had power over time, to make sure the moment would last forever. He wished for the impossible, and that dragged him back to reality.

When Damen opened his eyes, he was met by Laurent's staring straight at him.

"When word was out who you were, many wanted to kill you," Laurent said quietly. His hand rested on top of Damen's, and the brunet could hardly stop himself from brushing his fingers against Laurent's soft skin. "You wanted to fight by my side, but I could not allow it. I could not risk losing the fight because of looking after you, and I could not risk losing you."

Damen found it hard to breathe, but he held Laurent's gaze nonetheless, with unwavering determination.

"So you sent me away," he concluded, and Laurent only nodded, looking at their hands again. Damen experimentally touched on the blond's pulse. He was surprised to feel how it raced.

"I can't say it back to you. What you told me this afternoon," Laurent said, his voice quiet in the stillness of the room. Damen couldn't hear his thoughts from his own raging heartbeat. "But I cannot seem to stay away either. You-- You trapped me. You shouldn't have told me those things."

"You can leave," Damen breathed. _Please don't leave_ , he wanted to add, but didn't. His hand trembled slightly under Laurent's.

Laurent let out a long, shaky breath, not quite sounding like a laugh, even though Damen was sure he meant it as one.

"And that is where you're wrong."

His eyes flashed up to Damen's. There was naked hunger in them, desperate, like storms on the ocean. It seemed like he wanted to say something else, but he chose not to. Damen swallowed hard. He glanced at Laurent's lips, full and much closer than Damen would've thought it was safe. The silence stretched out and tension descended around them like a curtain. The touch on Damen's hand became almost too hot to endure, and he looked Laurent in the eye one more time, as if waiting for permission.

When Laurent looked at Damen's lips instead, the brunet made a nearly obscene sound before he lunged forward and closed the distance with an open mouthed, hot, and unbearably deep kiss.

And Laurent kissed back without hesitating for even a second.

Laurent's hand was gone from his right away, finding its way into Damen's hair instead. Damen wrapped both arms around the blond, sweeping him into his lap, holding him as close as he physically could.

It still wasn't close enough.

The kiss went on for a very long time. They ran out of air several times and only stopped for a moment to breathe, then, their lips collided again and again and again. It was the pent up desire of seven months, the longing, the need, all in one, passionate kiss. By the end of it, Damen didn't even try to hide the hardness that pressed against the both of them, and the moment Laurent slightly shifted on Damen's thighs, the brunet could tell Laurent wasn't uneffected either.

It lured a shaky laugh out of him and he licked his lips, his eyes still closed as he nursed the taste of Laurent on his tongue.

"Don't leave tonight," Damen whispered, his voice hoarse and still dripping with need. He pressed his palms against the small of Laurent's back, fighting the urge to reach under the white shirt and touch his skin instead. Laurent's hands rested on the sides of Damen's face, their foreheads pressed together and their breaths mingling in the small space between them.

Damen raised his head only to touch the tip of his nose to Laurent's, then, he stole a kiss more chaste than he's ever given anyone before. It was so sweet, Damen's stomach dropped with the temptation to do it again.

"I didn't come here with the intention to leave," Laurent said, his voice painfully similar to Damen's own. Damen opened his eyes for a second, only to see Laurent's still closed. He smiled, relieved and full of love.

Then, he kissed Laurent again.

This time, it was a slow, sensious play where both of them took their time and enjoyed every second of it. With every touch of his lips, it felt as if Laurent claimed Damen as his own, continuing further even when Damen thought Laurent would stop to breathe. The blond rocked his hips gently against Damen's, a friction so fantastic that Damen's hands absentmindedly slid to Laurent's thighs, to help him move better and gradually faster.

Laurent's hands snaked behind Damen's neck, his fingers lacing on the brunet's nape and gently playing with the soft curls there. It triggered goosebumps over Damen's body, sending the breaths out of him ragged and shallow.

"Laurent," Damen choked on this single word, the name melting like honey in his mouth. His lips followed the line of Laurent's jaw, starting from his chin right up to his ear where he gently bit on the blond's earlobe.

Laurent let his head fall back, his neck even more exposed for the other this way, and Damen's fingers dug into Laurent's thighs from the pleasure that washed over his body with every movement. Laurent's breaths came more and more feverishly, his hands pressing against the back of Damen's head harder with every rock of his hips. Damen sucked on Laurent's pulse, his hands finally finding their way under Laurent's shirt and moving upwards until he could track the blond's spine up to his neck.

"I-- I am too close," Laurent breathed, his fingers now fists in Damen's hair. Damen pulled the other's head back, to look at him properly. Laurent had the sweetest face of a man dangerously close to the edge, his eyes half closed, his mouth open in an almost obscene motion, and Damen could've come just by staring at the sight.

He had never seen Laurent like this before. He completely lacked the tension that generally described their first night together. He had the passion of an Akielon lover now, the kind of desire Damen wondered how anyone could make love without. His body was melting against Damen's, and the brunet finally understood.

They had no secrets anymore. They were equals, trusting each other with their lives, unafraid of being revealed. Laurent could finally let go, and Damen wanted to make it a moment they would never forget. Especially Laurent.

With one arm snaked around Laurent's form, Damen reached between them with his free hand, freeing Laurent's cock from the lightly woven underpants and wrapping his fingers around it. Laurent released a sound Damen hadn't heard from him before, and this moment only was enough to push Damen even closer to his own climax.

"Yes," Laurent breathed, not stopping for a moment in rocking his hips, now into Damen's hand. Damen ran his thumb over the head of Laurent's cock, smearing the precum over his entire length in one smooth motion. Laurent was downright shaking in Damen's lap now, the only thing holding him up being Damen's arm around him.

Damen only had to press his fingers tighter around Laurent once.

Slender fingers dug into Damen's shoulders just a second before Laurent let out a guttural moan, coming right into Damen's hand. The brunet held him through his orgasm, now him being the one rocking Laurent back and forth until the blond dropped his forehead against Damen's neck and tried to labour his breathing that way. Damen let go only when he felt Laurent going soft between his fingers, and he tried to not concentrate on his own aching erection now.

That is until, without looking up, Laurent reached for it and ran one finger over his entire length through Damen's pants.

In that moment, Damen started shaking too.

"Damn it," he muttered in Akielon, his eyes sliding closed as Laurent touched him again. And again. And again. Right before he slowly slid out of Damen's lap and pushed at his chest with both hands.

Damen landed lying on the bed, and he barely had a few seconds to register what was happening by the time Laurent was positioned between his legs, pulling Damen's pants off.

"Laurent, you don't have to," Damen choked out, just the mere thought of Laurent having his lips around him making him weak in multiple places. One look from Laurent was enough to strengthen this feeling.

"Shut up," Laurent said. His voice was definitive, magisterial, and Damen forced his head to stay up, making sure he would see everything. When Laurent, looking right into his eyes from behind his lashes, pressed his tongue into Damen's slit, that was all Damen could take before falling back on the bed.

For a split second, he was reminded of the last time he was given such 'pleasure', by the red headed Ancel back in Arles. He remembered the instructions Laurent gave, the very instructions he was following now, as if he was determined to wipe that memory from Damen's mind and replace it with this, with a new one, with him.

If that was indeed what he'd been attempting to do, Damen had to realize between two waves of outlandish rapture that he was succeeding. Ancel in his memory was but a mere ghost now, and Damen's back instinctively raised from the sheets the more his cock found its way down Laurent's throat.

The warmth of Laurent's palms on his hips was just one more thing to drive him madder with every passing second.

"L-- Laurent," he breathed, his voice deeper than before, his hands reaching for Laurent's in an absentminded attempt to hold him somehow. When Laurent's fingers laced with his own, Damen couldn't help the amorous smile that spread on his face from ear to ear, mixed with the ecstasy that his approaching climax put him in. "I can't hold it--"

He felt the squeeze on his hands, as if to say, _'Then don't'_ , and Laurent sucked on him harder, bobbing his head quicker to emphasize his meaning. Damen's hips raised from the bed again and, with the brunet's hands in his own, Laurent pushed it down to make sure the orgasm would hit harder that way.

It did.

The moan that made its way up Damen's throat was nothing he's ever made before, and he threw his head back, squeezing Laurent's hands as hard as he could without breaking them. Laurent never withdrew, his mouth gently moving up and down on the head while Damen had his release. It was quite possibly the best orgasm of Damen's life, but his mind was swimming way too much to put the feeling into actual words.

Instead, he tenderly pulled on Laurent by his hands until the blond was all over him, letting go of Damen with one hand to get a hold of himself. When Damen opened his eyes, drunk on pleasure and still trembling with the aftershock, his heart started racing because of the look on Laurent's face.

It was as close to a love confession as Laurent could ever get.

"Will you let me say it again?" Damen asked, his voice very quiet and almost too hoarse to understand. Laurent's golden brows furrowed slightly, and Damen raised one hand to smooth the wrinkles on his forehead. Then, he cupped the blond's cheek lightly.

"Say what?" Laurent said, sounding honestly confused, and Damen brushed a thumb across his lower lip. Laurent's mouth opened instinctively, pressing a gentle kiss on Damen's finger. It made Damen smile.

There was nowhere else in the world where Damen would've rather been.

"There aren't many things I would wish for your permission to say."

Soon, there was understanding in Laurent's mesmerizing eyes. Damen saw him swallow, visibly hard, and for a moment he regretted bringing this up. Then, the corners of Laurent's mouth quirked up, only for Damen to see.

"You have it."

Damen slowly pushed himself on his elbows. He was barely an inch away from Laurent this way, with his hand still on the side of Laurent's neck, concentrating on the blond's racing pulse against the edge of his palm.

"We'll figure it out," Damen said, a grin forming on his face. Laurent seemed dumbfounded for a second - right before his brows furrowed again and he unlocked his fingers from Damen's to smack him in the head.

"I think I already figured you out, King of Akielos," he held his hand in Damen's hair, bringing him all the way in and kissing him again, with just as much love as his face suggested a minute ago.

Soon, Damen came to a conclusion: any kiss felt sweeter once they would consist purely of smiles against each other.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I had so much fun while writing this, even though it took me longer than I originally thought it would. English is not my native language and this work is pretty much unbetad, so I hope you can forgive me for any mistakes that might have missed my attention while editing.
> 
> I CAN'T WAIT FOR BOOK 3. I JUST CAN'T.


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